Yeah, so I need surgery. Apparently, on of my wisdom teeth is happily migrating towards my cheekbone  -_- ...

More to the point, this means going to the hospital, which means I'm currently panicking. I don't handle hospitals that well. I spent far too much time there after my car accident and two subsequent surgeries. The very thought of willingly going in for surgery makes me queasy, but it's got to be done.

Anyone else get the feeling that if their is a higher power, he's fucking with us for his own entertainment?

Yeah, so if you're wondering about the previous surgeries, read on.

So, anyways, on Decenber 18th, 1997, I was on my way home from a doctor's appointment, when a guy in a dodge van (which dwarfed our mazda b2200) turned into the wrong lane. This is when I found out that the passenger side belt didn't lock when the brakes were applied. I hit the dash, biting through my lip and leaving toothmarks in the plastic surface of the dash. Meanwhile, the lap belt slammed into my stomach, rupturing my intestines (ewww), and almost killing me. When I woke up I had a foot-long scar running vertically down my abdomen, and a temporary colostomy.  So, after two months and several visits to a quack shrink (who honsetly didn't seem to understand why I was afraid of going in for surgery- you know, because being sliced open and having someone play around with your guts isn't something which would make most people a little nervous) I went back to have the colostomy removed. By the way, abdominal surgery sucks ass. It took a month before I could sit up without pain.

Anyways, yeah. Surgery = bad.